


Bedside Manner

by Celebrimbor1999



Series: CAI-AS097 [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, Cyborg Character, Day 9 illness, Gen, How Do I Tag, Mandalorian and OC bonding, Sickfic, Writer's Month 2020, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celebrimbor1999/pseuds/Celebrimbor1999
Summary: AySo was appreciative of their augmented immune system. It meant that they never had to deal with organic problems such as viral infections. Unfortunately, the Mandalorian is less immune. For Writer’s Month Day 9: Illness.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s)
Series: CAI-AS097 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862767
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Bedside Manner

“No, no, no, no, no! What in the Sith hells do you think you are doing? Were you raised by dire wolves? When you are this ill, you do not get out of bed, and you do not try to go bounty hunting!” AySo stood outside the closed refresher door. Even though the Mandalorian could not see them, they still placed both hands on their hips, channelling the demeanour of all the Rebel nurses they had so often not listened too.

The Mandalorian’s response? The sound of dry heaving.

AySo had only been travelling on the Razor Crest for a standard month and five days. They had largely avoided the bounty hunter, spending most of their time upgrading the ship and entertaining the infant – they had been banned from calling him ‘Magic Baby.’ The Mandalorian communicated with them sparingly. He would greet them in the morning with a handful of rations and a stern word to not shut the ship down while still in flight (which they only did once), and then would not speak to them until the night cycle. 16 standard day cycles ago, he thanked them for removing the infant’s data from the Imperial systems they’d found – thus preventing any more tracking fobs from being created. It did not impact those already in circulation, but AySo was also working on that. Five standard day cycles ago, the Mandalorian placed an extra blanket on them during their sleep cycle. They were still unused to the temperature drops on the ship, and as a cold-blooded individual, found it difficult to regulate their internal temperature. Neither of them have since spoken about the incident.

But today their dynamic changed. Today AySo was disturbed during their daily systems check by the infant, who had pulled them towards the closed refresher door with his Force. There, the Mandalorian and AySo argued through the durasteel as to the necessity of bounty hunting.

“We need the credits,” The Mandalorian groaned. It was strange for them to hear his voice without the modulator.

“You require rest, Mandalorian. You are in no shape to leave the ship!”

The infant agreed with them, patting the door with one clawed hand. He was looking distressed – perhaps he had never seen the Mandalorian in such a state. And speaking of seeing…

“Mandalorian, please let me in so I may determine what ails you.” They may not be specifically designed for medical procedure, but AySo could access the entire Holonet, as well as many enterprise systems – it was quite easy for them to download some of the necessary programming to administer first aid.

“No,” was the response, alongside the sporadic dry heaving.

“I understand that you are wary of me seeing you without your helmet, but there are ways –”

“No.”

“I can shift the perception of my eyes to infrared vision. With the sensitivity at its lowest setting, your facial features would be impossible to discern. I do not require my eyes to properly determine the cause for your illness.”

“I do not remove my helmet in front of others. This is the way.”

AySo’s capacitators were beginning to overheat in frustration. The excess chemicals were beginning to build up in their systems – they would need to shift it to their first stomach and purge it. “I am not completely organic, Mandalorian. I do not count as a humanoid to many societies and governments, and thus you would not be breaking your vow if you did remove your helmet before me. However, that becomes a moot point if I am _unable to see your face.”_ More of their organic voice slipped through there, creating a vaguely uncomfortable pulling sensation where their natural vocal cords had been fused with a voice modulator.

There was silence. Then, “Put the kid back in his bunk first. And is there a way for me to tell if you’ve turned your eyes off?”

“I have been reliably informed that my eyes turn dark green when I activate the infrared programming. As I do not believe in abstract concepts as many humanoids do, I cannot swear by them, but I respect you too much to deceive you in such a way, Mandalorian. Please allow me a moment to secure the infant.” AySo looked down at the infant and the corners of their lips shifted upwards by five degrees. “It is time for you to relax in your bunk, tiny child.”

The infant didn’t protest as AySo shut the bunk hatch, ensuring that he had his toys – the silver ball from the thrust lever, a ball made of sticks and the pale blue padded creature **(*Krill: A delicacy common on the planet Sorgan, it is cultivated in ponds with a water solution of --*).** Returning to the refresher, AySo also picked up a small water container. The Mandalorian would probably appreciate it after involuntarily purging himself.

They took a deep breath, despite being largely unnecessary. This would not be comfortable. They sent the correct line of code to the subroutine directing all ocular operations, and a whimper was torn from their throat as a stinging sensation built up in their eye sockets. Changing the visuals to infrared required a shift of the equipment within the eye. It was not painless. Their nictitating membrane slid across the surface of their eyes three times. It did not register in their vision. The heat signatures of the ship were coming in correctly. Carefully AySo dialled the sensitivity down until their vision consisted of various red, orange and yellow blurs.

A small shape was faintly visible through the durasteel hatch of the bunk. A larger blur was visible through the refresher door. Interestingly, the figure appeared to be missing a head. The Mandalorian must have replaced his helmet – inadvisable, given the sporadic nature of his continual purging. It would create quite a mess should he be unable to remove his helmet in time.

“The infant is contained and my infrared vision program working successfully. If you would not mind opening the door?”

The figure did not move for a moment. Then two thin shapes reached up to remove the helmet, revealing the rest of the body. Then there was the sound of a door opening, and the figure became brighter. The Mandalorian was predominately shades of yellow and bright greens from torso to feet, but their head and hands lit up bright red. Immediate alerts were set off in their new first aid systems.

“Mandalorian, you are currently suffering from a fever of approximately 40 degrees,” They announced, before slowly walking forwards. “I will require skin contact to accurately determine your temperature and illness, but based off your symptoms, it seems to be a severe case of gastroenteritis.”

The figure shifted, taking a step backwards into the refresher. “AySo, your eyes…”

“I assure you, they are functioning completely at an infrared level. I cannot determine any of your facial features, or indeed, many details about your person at all.”

“The skin around your eyes is swollen.” The Mandalorian’s voice seemed worse now that the barrier of the refresher door was gone. He took another step back and twisted, leaning over the refresher bowl once more.

AySo stumbled forward, lower leg colliding with a box they had not detected, before catching themselves on the door frame. They reached in and pressed the flat of their hand against the figure’s back, rubbing in slow circles. “According to research and accounts on the Holonet, this assists in the purging process.” They ignored the tension in the muscles.

After a moment of hanging over the bowl, the Mandalorian pulled back with a groan. AySo passed him the water container and sat down themselves. Taking the figures unoccupied arm, they groped around before finding the fingers. They were so small in comparison to the rest of the body – with the sensitivity settings as low as they were, the fingers were barely visible. “You have clammy hands. You have been regularly vomiting across a two hour and 42 minute time period. You are experiencing a high fever. Are you also experiencing any cramps or other pains?”

“My head hurts,” The Mandalorian muttered after a moment. “And my legs…”

“Based on the evidence, and the lack of other symptoms, I believe you are indeed suffering from gastroenteritis. If you give me a moment to hack into the Felucian government systems…” A line of code snaked through the last firewall. They had been working on this program from the moment they entered the atmosphere at 1.14pm Felucian time, but it had not been a priority until now. Their unique multi-orientated probe – the one which gave them the hacker tag _Hydra_ – began to send them data packets after securing a backdoor into the system for later analysis. “There has been a gastroenteritis outbreak among the general population as of one standard week ago. You must have come in contact with something you should not have while gathering information on the bounty.”

The Mandalorian groaned and the glowing figure shifted to press more of their exposed skin against the durasteel.

Ah. A headache. AySo manipulated their vocal modulator to speak at a lower decibel. “My apologies Mandalorian. I shall gather supplies – please drink as much water as you can stomach. You require the liquids. While I am adept at inserting intravenous lines, I do not wish to do so.”

Leaving the refresher made AySo appreciate the stabilisers in their legs. Walking with such a handicap was uncomfortable. In the small eating area, they found a larger container to hold water, a packet that hopefully held a bland ration bar, the first aid kit, and a cloth. Passing back through the hull, they collected their blankets from the corner.

While the Mandalorian had offered them a bunk, they had refused and instead bedded down on the floor. From what AySo had read of the Uraei, they preferred to sleep in ‘nests’ rather than beds like other species, due to their habit of curling and stretching their limbs during REM sleep. AySo preferred it because the tight area of the bunk reminded them too much of the augmentation pods.

AySo handed the Mandalorian the water container before trying to sit down themselves. The heat they registered from the idling engines and passive electronics threw off their sense of where the floor began. This made their slide to the ground much less graceful than preferred.

“Here.” They carefully submerged the cloth into the water before pressing it into the Mandalorian’s hand. “One suggested method of relief is placing a wet cloth across your forehead and eyes. It should help relieve your headache.” As the Mandalorian busied themselves with that, creating a blue area on their head, AySo placed down the ration bar and first aid kit.

“Once you are feeling better, I will require your assistance with the first aid kit. According to my records, there should be a blister pack of penicillin in there, but I currently lack the ability to find it.”

The Mandalorian’s head rolled a little on his shoulders. “Do you need some?”

AySo felt their nictitating membrane cross their eyes. “No, it would assist in reducing your symptoms. Why do you think I need it?”

His hand lifted in the direction of his face, shifting a little before dropping back down. “Your eyes. They were swollen.”

Another blink. AySo carefully probed the area around their eyes, relying on the sensors within their fingertips for information. Ah. There was some inflammation from the shifting mechanics within their eye sockets – the muscles and nerves were unused to the changes and had triggered a response within their immune system. The alert had been lost in the coding for the probe and deciphering the infrared information. It was the work of a moment to recover it. “It is simply minor inflammation from changing my ocular function. It will decrease with time.”

“Changing your eyes caused you pain?” There was something akin to concern within the Mandalorian’s voice – AySo couldn’t get a proper vocal baseline to accurately analyse any changes in his tone. He patted through the first aid kit and removed what AySo assumed was the penicillin. He then proceeded to swallow two tablets with a sip of water.

“Not a pain I am unused to,” they explained, “An organic body does not easily accept mechanical enhancements.” This conversation was becoming uncomfortable – they were not used to people inquiring about their state of being. “Are you feeling improved?”

“A little.”

“Then I ask that you relax. If you will please sit up and away from the wall for a moment?” Ignoring the Mandalorian’s confusion, AySo tucked their nest blankets between the figure and the durasteel. With prompting and assistance, he was even able to support his own weight enough to tuck the blankets beneath his body.

AySo flattened the fabric across the Mandalorian’s legs in a fashion they could recall seeing in the Rebel infirmary before standing. “Now, to assist in your recovery, I shall go and collect the bounty.”

That seemed to shock the Mandalorian out of whatever stupor he had fallen into, as he immediately began to struggle with the blankets, upsetting AySo’s work. “What? You can’t collect a bounty!”

“I may not find any kind of enjoyment in it, but I am capable,” they said as they crossed the room to the weapons cabinet. There was some kind of twisted pride running through their processor at their ability to correctly determine the position of the Amban rifle through touch. Twisted because it was something they did not wish to take pride in – if they never had to touch a weapon for the rest of their life, it would be preferable. “Please add more water to the cloth at regular intervals – it will be of no assistance to you when hot.”

“Have you ever taken in a bounty before?” The Mandalorian groaned, seemingly ignoring their words. He was now half in and half out of the refresher.

“I may not have collected a bounty before,” AySo began as they readied and holstered the rifle via muscle memory, “But I have experience in disabling individuals from a distance.” They turned in the direction of the red/yellow figure and smiled, revealing their sharp teeth. “You never asked me what my name was.”

The Mandalorian went stiff. “I was under the impression that your name was AySo.”

“That is the name I prefer to use. However, my full designation is CAI-AS097. CAI was the program I was a part of – the Confederate Augmentation Initiative. The 097 was my identification number – regiment and ranking. AS however? That stood for my position – Augmented Sniper.”

**Author's Note:**

> I LIIIIIIIIIVVVVEEEE! This is my very, very late submission for writers month, but I had fun doing it – I had to write the second chapter of ‘You Remind Me Of The Babe’ first, because I went ‘huh, how did AySo get onto the Razor Crest’, otherwise this wouldn’t have made much sense. I’m not completely sold on my characterisation of Din yet – I’ve read a lot of things about him, but I still haven’t got a handle on his character… oh well. Practise makes better, I hope. The first couple of lines come from a prompt I used – if anyone knows who the original (owner? Writer? Person who said it?) is, please let me know so I can give credit where credit’s due.   
> Anyway, here’s to hoping you enjoyed!  
> (PS sorry not sorry for the hints about AySo – I like to be mysterious ^u^)


End file.
